HERA

...Oops.

Merrie blinked as the blonde incubus charged forward, her fangs bared and her pigtails bouncing with mad frenzy. The situation was even more befuddling because she was dressed in full-fledged Gothic Lolita, with black frills and the blackest of eye makeup that, in the darkness of the computer room at midnight, made her look almost as much like a sinister raccoon as L himself. To be more precise, a sinister raccoon with a lethal case of PMS. Even the proud Merrie Kenwood had to admit that she hadn't been quite this intimidated since the time a militant PETA organization hired her to liberate starving greyhounds.

It might have been the alcohol in her system that kept her sitting on Light Yagami's lap and staring, delaying any reaction to her upcoming doom.

At least, at first it was the alcohol.

Then it was more so a kind of maniacal obstinance. The sort of insanity that only an outraged female in love can exert - which might have made sense, except she wasn't in love. But she was certainly quite outraged that this eighty pound Gothic twit had just a) claimed Light Yagami as her own, and b) was still running forward with clear homicidal intent. And c) Aiber wasn't lying about the god damned x-factor, and d) why the hell weren't L and Light screwing yet? And e) L was looking like a pompous sadist as he was watching this event occur, wide-eyed and a psychotic little smile on his pallid face.

And f) for fuck, this chick was really going to kill her!

When the demon girl, who had already branded herself as 'Misa', reached her, Merrie slid off of Light's lap at the last hair of a second to dodge a fistful of flailing fingernails. She slipped to the other side of Light's chair, using the flustered object of battle himself as a protective barrier. Merrie didn't like that situation either, because this put her right between the swivel chairs of Light and L, and having her back toward the latter was about as comforting as a schizophrenic therapist.

"Misa, please calm down!" Light insisted, looking quite distressed as he sat up and beseeched to the she-devil. "Wedy's drunk, and she was only helping me-"

"Wedy, huh?!" The girl hissed, leaning forward and baring a mouth of pearly-white fangs. "I'm going to kill you, Wedy!"

"Don't say that, Amane-san," L chose to put in, obviously very morbidly entertained by the whole issue. He was throwing generous handfuls of chocolate chips into his mouth as though they were popcorn. "You are currently being observed for suspicious Kira related behavior, and though I'm sure you do not seriously mean such a thing, it is incriminating to you."

"I did too mean such a thing!" Misa howled, wrapping thin, manicured fingers around Light's arm in what looked like a vice grip more suitable for a pair of pliers. "No one touches Misa's Light except for Misa!"

This was a problem. For being less than five feet tall and pencil skinny, this Misa Amane was a big fucking problem. Merrie needed to worm her way out of this one, preferably before she had to resort to cat fighting, or shooting Blondie in the face. L would probably cut her paycheck if she killed one of his suspects. Or worse – let it slip to Daddy Yagami that the thief had been flirting with his precious little prince. And really, Merrie valued her exquisite collection of functioning organs.

"Misa-chan," Merrie cooed out loud, still with one hand on Light's shoulder. She went as far as patting it affectionately, as though she were on very friendly terms with the boy. When dealing with rabid animals, it was best not to express any kind of fear. Fear was fuel to the fire of the bloodthirsty. "I do believe you misunderstand this situation entirely. You walked in on quite a bad time."

"Bad time?! You were trying to rape my boyfriend!"

Pardon, rape him? Yeah, right. As they say, it's not rape if they are willing. And she was Merrie Kenwood, for Christ's sake, who wasn't willing? (But she didn't say that out loud. Nor did she say ''I'm trying to make your boyfriend gay'', because that didn't seem as though it would help matters, and truth be told Merrie was far too femininely alluring for that to be a believable excuse anyway. ) And... what the hell? Boyfriend?

"I assure you that I'm not at all sexually interested in Yagami-kun," Merrie stressed with a benevolent smile plastered on her face. "Nor am I at all sexually interested in anyone like him."

L snorted, Light blinked, and Misa growled. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm a lesbian."

Silence.

Heavy, thick, uncomfortable, hil-fucking-larious silence, as her assorted variety of an audience took in the words that Merrie had chosen to utter.

Light blinked again, Misa looked overcome with shock. Merrie had her back to Panda Face so she couldn't see what expression he had decided to contort his pointed features into in response (if he had even bothered to expend such energy as to humanly put on display his high-level cognition), but she strategically stepped to the side so that her ass was blocking him from giving away undesirable answers to the other two.

"Oh," Misa finally gave in, retracting her claws. "Um... oh."

Sometimes her intelligence astounded even her. Merrie chuckled as she retreated toward the hallways, cheerfully announcing that it was time for bed and that she would see them all bright and early tomorrow morning.

X-factor threat? Neutralized.

Now that immediate threat of danger had passed and Hades was no longer examining her name in his reservation book for Hell, one very disturbing notion had made itself comprehensive. To put it eloquently, it went somewhere along the lines of is Goldenboy actually the property of that prepubescent Barbie? and to put it in a less eloquent way, but that better illustrated Merrie's feelings, it was more in the realm of what in the name of Zeus's sovereign manhood was that?

And because she was such an awesome cat burglar and this issue had far exceeded the realm of mere curiosity, she never actually left. She took a few steps into the darkness of the hallway, letting the noise of her footsteps pattering trail off, and then with skillful silence she pressed her palms against one wall, and kicked her feet to the other. Being a relatively tall women, if she stretched her torso with enough effort this task wasn't difficult. When the soles of her feet were planted against the opposite side of the hallway, she climbed with both sets of limbs in the opposite direction of gravity. At the ceiling, most of her body was covered by the small ceiling barricade of the entry way, and she quietly poked her head down and through the door way.

L would need fucking ESP to sense her now.

The Dynamic Justice Duo had finally peeled the I-Get-In-The-Way-Of-Everything Misa-chan off of Light and sent her to bed. Merrie witnessed the girl lean forward to Light, giggle maniacally, and smash perked lips against his cheek. Light seemed mainly unresponsive, but he bid her a good night. (Merrie held her breath as Misa passed through the corridor under her, and damned if the demonic siren wasn't lucky that Merrie had been raised with class – or she might've coughed up a nice fat loogie and let it fall on that pretty blonde head.) Charming, it really was, that L failed to mention that the Kira Investigation Headquarters was haunted by Satan-ette, but Merrie was willing to be a good sport and forgive the panda because she was exceedingly annoyed and eager to know the truth of Light's relationship status.

"That was interesting," Light remarked slowly, turning his swivel chair to face L.

"My preference in word of description would be 'irritating'," L stiffly responded, his hands immediately lifting to his keyboard and his fingers plucking letters at probably ten thousand words a second. "That was an unproductive waste of sixteen minutes."

"It wasn't necessarily a waste," the adolescent reasoned, tilting his head thoughtfully toward the detective. Locks of hair that reflected almost a warm chestnut hue against the glow of the computer monitors framed his focused, and so far, calm, eyes. "You know, it's a healthy study habit to take periodical breaks from work. This gives the mind a chance to relax, and thus increases reasoning abilities thereafter."

L's eyelids dropped under the weight of thin eyebrows and they shifted slightly toward the suspect. Something about that look was definitely a glare, even if it was as ambiguous as always. "In which case, I hope Yagami-kun is very relaxed after that particular treatment."

"I didn't say that." Light's brows furrowed and his jaw tightened. "That's not what I meant. I was just trying to be optimistic."

The detective studied his young companion. A finger had risen from the keyboard and hooked around his lower lip. Then, without warning, the accusation drawled out: "You're using optimism to justify injustice. I'm more inclined to think that you share Kira's traits."

Light's response was delayed as he stared at his captor. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Kira is murdering the masses under the optimistic excuse of a better future without crime. Light-kun allows two blonde idiots to monopolize our valuable investigation time under the optimistic excuse of better reasoning ability."

The adolescent stared, as though he couldn't quite believe that L had made such a batshit absurd connection. (Merrie conjectured that he was also probably displeased that L had called the greatest and most sexy thief of all time an idiot.) Then he shook his head incredulously, turning back to his monitor. "I'm never going to be free again. You'll be the reason that I'm either locked in jail, or locked in a mental hospital."

L, the insensitive spawn of Khaos that he was, was ninety-eight percent immune to that pesky curse called a 'conscience'. His face was completely blank as he grabbed a sugary confectionery from a plate by his keyboard and held it out to his companion. "Do you want a cookie?"

If that's what L called flirting... he sucked major dick.

Or didn't. Wouldn't get to. Whatever.

Discreetly, Aiber had handed Merrie L's case profile of Satanette. The not-so-thrilled look on the French man's face was probably because he was also concerned with the budding of Aphrodite's true-love blossoms and probably had nothing to do with the fact that Merrie had awoken him at three in the morning, post-eavesdropping enterprise, and demanded that he retrieve all the information he could get from L on this Misa thing, because L would never entrust her with such confidential information because he was a malevolent bastard, and if Aiber didn't do this Merrie would never speak to him again, also, the gods thrust their curses upon his pitiful soul in great abundance.

Well, the silver-tongued bastard could mope if he wanted about women being the cause of original sin by clawing at the forbidden Fruit of Knowledge and that for their guilt they ought to conduct their behavior with submissiveness and humility (especially in the presence of a man). But somehow, using his vast personality-exploiting con-artist skills, the next morning Aiber had successfully acquired the file from L. Merrie had witnessed the whole pathetic scene with her own, sleep-crusted eyes:

“Ryuzaki, how is your research going?” Aiber asked cordially, walking over to the breakfast table where L was manipulating a thick stack of papers strewn in a mess on the tablecloth with one hand, and manipulating a double chocolate-chunk brownie with the other.

(The chocolate hand was the one with the handcuff connecting him to Light, Merrie noted in her half-conscious state. This was definitely symbolic of... something.)

“Things are progressing. I know if we keep at it, justice will soon prevail,” L answered, giving Aiber this dopey little smile and a thumbs-up sign, as though he had the steadfast purity of a socially retarded Power Ranger.

“I'm glad to hear it. I do hope this case will be wrapped up as soon as possible – you can imagine how unsettling Kira is to respectable con-men like myself,” Aiber said in a way that was merely conversational. One would have thought the man was discussing football and not supernatural megalomaniacs, but really Merrie supposed that to underworld superstars such as themselves there was hardly a difference.

L blinked. He rolled his onyx eyes upward to the ceiling and put a chocolate covered finger to his bottom lip, like he were in preschool and was imagining very hard. “Ah, yes. It's a terrible feeling,” he concluded mournfully.

Merrie wasn't quite sure if she was awake anymore, or why, by Pandora's Box was L pretending he wasn't a ruthless and uncivilized lunatic with an oral fixation? Well, okay, he wasn't hiding the 'uncivilized' part, or the oral fixation. Just his inner evil. Damn it anyway, but understanding the detective was way too complicated a thought process for Merrie's very single-tracked morning brain. Instead she concentrated on, from her sofa a safe distance away, the sleepy Light Yagami eating what looked like the Japanese equivalent of Coco Puffs while fiercely solving the newspaper's daily SuDoku – for whatever reason, that image was less disturbing.

Focus on the broad issue overtook her again when Aiber suddenly put very blatantly, “By the way, Ryuzaki, can I have a look at Misa Amane's case file?”

“Ah, certainly,” the cretin responded. His left thumb and forefinger picked up a stapled packet from the pile as though he were a crane machine, and ever-so-compliantly, he entrusted the information to his hired outlaw.

Ye gods. And Aiber had told her that she was delusional when she claimed that Panda Face was picking favorites. Well, cracking open that can of worms would have to wait until Merrie didn't have more exciting ways to amuse herself or wanted an excuse to eat chocolate. Instead of being so counterproductive, she crammed her bitterness to the furthermost depths of her skull and held up the more important issue at stake.

Misa Amane. Twenty (holy shit!) years old. Seventy-nine pounds, four foot eleven.

Occupation: model

Current status: Kira suspect

Fabulous. Yet another Kira suspect that the investigation unit kept locked up in this building. Then there was the third Kira somewhere in Yotsuba's employment. L seemed to have made a hobby of collecting Kiras like Pokémon cards. Gotta catch 'em all! ...Not for the first time was Merrie immensely glad that her innermost thoughts were not narrated out loud. Actually... not for the last time, either.

On an optimistic note, out of all the Kira suspects in the world, breeding and prosperous that they appeared to be, it was the Apollo-favored Golden boy, Light Yagami, who L had opted to keep collared, leashed and within screwing distance at all times. Amidst these troubled times, it was good to know that the detective hadn't succumbed to Satanette's devilish charms, and apparently the task force kept that demon sealed away in a locked room at the times when she wasn't out at a photo shoot with Matsuda acting as her agent. However, the dark pessimist inherent in Merrie any hour before noon was very much examining the fact that the file listed Misa's romantic status as 'in a relationship.'

"You want to know if the Yagami kid is actually dating Misa Amane?" Aiber asked her in accent-laced English over morning (or whatever you call seven AM?) coffee. The con-man was comfortably sitting on the red sofa, one arm resting along the back and the other claiming his steaming, ceramic mug. He looked so damned fine in his purple button-down and dark slacks, so at ease and comfortable in this most ungodly hour. Merrie wanted to kill him for being a morning person. Or screw him, as soon as this caffeine jump started her groggy brain. Or both, except the sex would have to come first, because...

Fuck mornings. Fuck them.

"Yes, that's precisely what I want to know," she huffed, taking a liberal swig of the burning coffee.

"Here is a thought of mine, mon chérie, for you to take or leave. A suggestion, if you will." Aiber paused for dramatic effect, lifting the mug to his lips and taking a small sip. A tiny smile contorted his entire face into taunting amusement. "You could... ask him."

Merrie glared. "Are you mocking me?"

"Ah, I love Wedy in the morning! My beauteous, if cranky, goddess Hera," he joked. "She is the Queen, the safe-keeper of marriage and true love. Yet how dangerously jealous she becomes when competition arises!"

"Consider what I am saying now a very witty death threat, except at the moment you really aren't worth exerting the mental effort to actually think of one."

Aiber chuckled. "All I'm saying is, as a thief I believe you're somewhat antisocial. I'm a con-man, and I have no quarrels with dealing directly with people. You don't need to sneak around all the time, it's quite okay to be blunt and say what you want to get what you want."

Merrie slammed her mug down on the coffee table and gave him a look as though he had just committed heresy. He might as well have called her A-cup. "Antisocial? I'm antisocial?"

"Well, if not, go on. Light is sitting over there, reading the paper. Go up to him and ask him if he's dating the girl."

"No."

"And why not?"

"Because I don't give a damn!" she proclaimed exuberantly. "I don't care about Misa Amane. Light could be dating Zeus Almighty for all I care. That's not going to stop me from winning this!"

As if in divine response to this blasphemous statement, Zeus saw fit to let this outburst ring loudly throughout the area. A tenor boy's voice from across the room called out, "Wedy-san? Pardon, did you say my name?"

Merrie ignored the French smirk that was cast her way at that moment and dismissed the suspect breezily. "No, honey. I said 'Light' – but in English that's just a normal word."

''He's fluent in English, my exquisitely delicate half-wit,'' Aiber remarked dryly. ''And he was named after that English word.''

''Don't call me names, fathead.''

Aiber smiled goodnaturedly, leaning lazily back into the cushions of the sofa. “Ah, no one ever claimed that Hera ruled over morning eloquence. Or any eloquence, for that matter.”

Honestly, was Merrie the only one with some inkling of sophistication in this building? By the gods, they really had more important things to worry about!

“She's too old for him!” she started again on the aforementioned 'important things'. “In America we have a word for people like Misa Amane – statutory rapist!”

“Uh-huh.”

“I mean, she's probably Kira.”

“Clearly.”

“Light is young and vulnerable. He needs a law-enforcing man like L to protect him against sexual predators such as her.”

“You're saying this with a straight face.”

“That's because I'm not joking. Besides, being an educated detective, L has more credible expertise at human anatomy than she does, so he can probably give Light-”

“You're done now.”

But Aiber, who was unfortunately branded with masculinity at birth, was not clearly knowledgeable when it came to the girl's-only game of Matchmaker. Like Victorian dining there were rules, and no one knew why they were rules but you sure as hell did not break them. One central pillar of Eros's Temple was that both targets involved were not allowed to know that they were being set up. On the day they finally got together they had to think it was fate, certainly it was fate anyway, but sometimes even the gods needed a little push of encouragement. That's where she came in.

Men or not, Panda Face and Goldenboy weren't the dullest tools in the shed. So Merrie felt the need to be somewhat secretive in the plans she was conducting. In other words, there was no snowball's chance in Hades that she was just going to ask Light if he was dating Satanette.

No, on the contrary, she would have to be crafty. Not a problem, she thought as she inconspicuously planted another audio bug behind the door of the woman's restroom on the lobby of the Yotsuba building in broad daylight. She adjusted the radio frequency to optimum compatibility with L's sensitive equipment, and decided that she would wheedle the truth out of the boys as easily as wielding language. She was about as crafty as it was humanly possible to be, and she was more than willing to put her skills to the test.

Just like grade school.

"Howdy, boys," Merrie greeted as soon as she returned to headquarters, walking next to the boys, who were engaging themselves like usual in the wall of computer equipment. With a hand on her hip and bloodthirsty eyes hiding under her darkened sunglasses, she was a predator, advancing upon her prey.

"Wedy-san, are you sober today?" L inquired immediately without looking her way. Quite the cheeky little brat.

Merrie smiled. "You know, you don't really know what you're missing. I think I shall have to get you drunk one of these nights, sweetie."

'Sweetie' seemed like an appropriate obligatory label of affection for Panda Face (one that could be spoken out loud and not result in her getting physically assaulted, anyway). The guy was ceaselessly downing sweets, loaded in calories, carbohydrates and trans fats. Now why didn't any of that abundant sucrose leak into his callous disposition? Or to his stomach, for that matter? Maybe Watari fed him chocolate-coated diet pills. The secret to his slimness might also have to be investigated in the future, she could make billions mass-producing the method in America.

"You can think again," L responded with defiance.

"Why not? You like sugar, so you ought to try the fermented kind." She gave a dazzling smile, all pearl-white teeth and fit for a walk across the red carpet. "It's more fun that way."

"I can think of more interesting ways to have fun," the detective said solemnly.

Ha, ha. I can also think of more interesting ways for you to have fun.

Merrie nodded seriously, and her eyes flickered in the direction of the other boy who sat complacently by his keyboard. "Yes, I'm sure. Light can, too, can't you, honey?"

Blink. Blink. Russet irises fluttered under long lashes. "Sure, Wedy-san."

"Maybe there's something that you two can do together. Something that has nothing to do with capturing Kira for once."

“We have to capture Kira,” Light said with certainty, rather missing the point. “He's a murderer, and if that weren't enough, he's framed me and I've become Ryuzaki's prime suspect. We're not doing this for the entertainment value.”

Not for the entertainment? Bullshit. “Obviously, but you have to take breaks and relax every once in awhile. You know, release all of that built-up tension.”

Yeah, Light, my darling. You know exactly what kind of tension I'm referring to.

Blink. Blink. "Ryuzaki and I play chess sometimes."

...Or not.

“That's nice, Light-kun.” Merrie cocked her head to the side, blonde curls tossing against her cheeks as she inspected the kid with precision. It seemed as though she would need to shove this conversation, gently so, in the proper direction. “Does his rook often take your queen?”

“What?” Light contemplated this with far too much sincerity. “I don't know, my queen usually stays in the game longer than his does.”

“I'm just asking, because rooks can slide across the chess board so easily. And the queen is the most desired target for your opponent to take, correct?” She ever-so-delicately lowered her voice then, letting the words purr from her throat. “Though really, I suppose, depending on how you like to play you can take it any way you want.”

He looked skeptical, which was proof that he was still utterly clueless. "Wedy-san, the game is more about strategy. It's about protecting the king while simultaneously trying to take your opponent's. Every other piece is only a tool."

"Yes?" Merrie's cherry lips danced into a smile. "And whose tools last... longer?"

"Umm... I guess it depends."

"On?"

"Uh... who's playing better?" He looked confused, and then he gave a sunny grin. "Ryuzaki's chess abilities probably correlate with the amount of sugar he's consumed."

Okay. This conversation wasn't a complete waste of time, because that was good to know. On the day that Merrie finally got righteous adolescent chained to L's bed, she would be sure to leave them a good-luck present of whipped cream and chocolate sauce.

"Wedy has a sudden interest in chess, is this so?" L asked accusingly, narrowing his dark-as-coal tar eyes in her direction. The detective was suspicious of her. Again. Now that she was on personal terms with Monkey Boy it seemed like a blow to her pride to be caught (again), however she was the queen of glamor the world called Wedy, gods bear witness, and she was absolutely undaunted.

"You could say that," she affirmed. "It's a lovely little game. What I was really wondering, though, is Light, do you play chess with Misa?"

“What? Oh, no, never, not with Misa.”

The look of horror on the teenager as he gave the answer brought an excellent smirk to Merrie's face. Bingo! That was it! No boyfriend would play such a emotionally compelling game as chess with another love interest but not his own girlfriend! This was exactly what Merrie wanted to hear, she couldn't wait to rub it into Aiber's smug face and let the real matchmaking begin-

“But sometimes she and I play Connect Four.”

What the...

Light Yagami. You slut.

The boy looked worried as he interpreted her facial expression, and with a meek smile he admitted, “I know it's not a very complex game, but it keeps her happy.”

Merrie's teeth bared in severe displeasure, and she tightened her lips again when L cocked an eyebrow at her. The words were on the tip of her tongue, she just wanted to break the rules and ask him if he was bloody dating the banshee or not, but damn it all anyway, she was Merrie Kenwood and she was not going to throw in the towel so easily. Instead she took her leave and let her stiletto heels collide viciously across the tile floor, thinking that this called for a new plan because no matter how many IQ points they had under their belts, boys didn't know shit about the rules.

Really.

Okay, so Aiber wasn't telling her anything. Asking Light or L was out of the question. Evidently Misa sure thought that she was going steady with Goldenboy, but obviously one should not listen to the claims of the devil. In fact, because Misa was Satanette, she was probably lying. Evil is associated with falsehood, after all. So there was no reason to investigate, it was really all quite clear, even if slightly indirect...

The cops would know the truth. Unfortunately, Chief Soichiro Yagami, ever the gentleman, wanted to graciously offer her a seat in an electric chair. Asking him if his darling son was single somehow did not strike her as a very wise course of action.

“Hi, Wedy-san.”

She walked right by the puppy-dog cop as she trekked down the hallway toward her door. She didn't have the time to deal with his flushed face or hopelessly dilated pupils as she passed, his eyes falling down to the sway of her hips encased in tight black pants was something she had long since desensitized to. No, Merrie had to think. She should have known that this game was going to be horribly labyrinthine with the infamous L involved, but she never fathomed that there would be weeds to hack before she even got to work on him. As for the Yagami boy, he was clearly far too dedicated to his ethical convictions and capturing Kira to notice what a hopeless case of Stockholm's Syndrome he was developing. And L, the conniving sonuvabitch wasn't exactly the most open, sensitive guy around who would maturely discuss his pent up sexual frustrations for his prime suspect.

As if the original situation hadn't been pleasant enough, now the monkey wrench, Misa-'I'm-the-Antichrist'-Amane, had been tossed into the system mechanics. That woman, digging her painted nails into Light's skin and branding him, like an evil spirit trying to lure the young romantic into the Otherworld to be trapped for eternity. Merrie was much too heroic to let that happen, and even if she was the only one fighting, she would not back down.

But hold the phone, what would Soichiro Yagami think of that, anyway? Certainly the traditional, morally-uptight man couldn't be any more pleased about his baby boy dating a supernatural-obsessed model (who was probably Kira) who pranced around sporting Gothic Lolita and heavy eye makeup than she was. To be fair, he probably wouldn't much like having his son dating a skinny enigma of male sex who acted like (was?) a hard core druggie, but at least in the immediate issue they might have a common enemy. It was a pity that he wanted her to die or rot in prison, along with the other stick-up-their-asses cops. That was, all of them except-

"Matsuda," Merrie stopped in her tracks down the hallway. Yes. The puppy-dog was also acting as Misa Amane's manager, and managers know everything about their clients. Slowly, delicately, knowing that he was watching her, she turned her head. Predatory eyes struck the young victim, and her lips curved slightly into something dark and sinister, exaggerated by her striking red lipstick. "Matsuda-san, I'm distraught."

Matsuda blinked his wide eyes, clearing quite aghast that his crush was acknowledging his existence. He covered this up by sloppily forcing a laugh, running a shaky hand through his raven strands of hair. "Oh, is that so? What's bothering you? Is there something that I can do to help?"

She fought back her own laugh, and instead, just smiled. "I don't usually confide in anyone, I'm a very private person. I suppose I'm simply... lonely. " she turned her head slightly away there, to emphasize the aforementioned distress. "I'm alienated, especially by the police unit. It's awfully frightening to work with L, when they look at me as though they'd prefer slitting my throat to capturing Kira."

Matsuda's jaw was unhinged, and his eyes were wide and jittery. Merrie allowed him a few seconds to respond, but all he managed was making a choking noise that she was pretty sure was not in the Japanese dictionary, unless it was heavy slang.

"Could it be because I'm American?" she mused woefully. "Because I am a woman? Do they judge me for my profession?"

"That's not true!" Fantastic. She had pegged him as the good-hearted hero type, and he was playing it perfectly. He approached her, and shyly put a hand on her shoulder. "That's not true at all. If anyone is nervous around you, it's only because... only because..."

"Because what, Matsuda-san?" Merrie raised her eyelids so that her irises would look wide and fluttering. She upturned her chin to gaze longingly into his face. (He actually smelled quite nice. What cologne was this? It beat the hell out of Mogi's.)

"Because you are so beautiful." His cheeks were burning with a fiery anxious red, but his eyes were filled with determination. A shy hero, yes, Merrie could find that adorable. Quite precious, in fact, now that she thought about it. "I've never met another woman quite like you, Wedy-san. I can't seem to think straight!"

Boo-yah.

There was no point in being coy with her attentions now, because she had this weed snagged. She wrapped her perfectly manicured hands around his back, slipping them under his arms. Matsuda was taller than her, but not by much – especially not with the impressive stiletto heals that she wore. It was therefore easy enough to incline her head forward, and bashfully press her lips against his open, dumbfounded mouth.

"Oh, Wedy-san," he murmured half-heartedly, but he was turning his head away. "You're just lonely, I can't, I can't take advantage of you..."

What, you bonehead. I'm the one taking advantage of you. With more assertion and demand, she bent her elbows upward from behind him to catch his head and turn it back towards her. The chaste act tossed aside, she plunged herself onto him, immediately thrusting her tongue into his unsure mouth.

Modestly, so modestly that she had to keep from chuckling, he allowed her entry. And then, after just a half second of resistance to her temptations, he answered the call by releasing his own tongue. It was a surrender to Aphrodite's kiss, humble but with pure patronage. Merrie liked that - and best of all, Matsuda was rather good at this. This clearly wasn't his first kiss - she had feared a sloppy first-timer - but there was a sort of balanced grace to his movements. It wasn't bold enough to win the perfect ten, yet it was sure as hell better than not making out.

And then, as suddenly as she started, she pulled out. She intended to blush like a nun with embarrassment, but faking something as ridiculous as that was easier said than done. Her sister was the actress in the family, not her. Instead, Merrie settled for fluttering her eyelashes as she turned away, eyes cast down on the ground. "Matsuda-san, you've made me so happy. Thank you... for being here."

"Uh, you're welcome, Wedy-san. Anytime." Matsuda comically realized how suggestively direct that sounded, because he cringed. "I didn't mean that, I meant-"

"You didn't mean that?" The burglar narrowed her eyes and snapped her face upward to meet his.

"I mean, I did, if that's what you wanted it to mean, that is! I don't, ah, I'm sorry, I'm confusing myself, I-"

He was babbling with incredible awkwardness, so Merrie stopped listening. It wasn't was though the accomplishment itself was worth bragging for, but what was to come next was what she was quite pleased about. After all, she was altruistic in nature, and she made it her personal responsibility to do good in the world – and this was one step closer to undergoing one of the most grand crusades for the world's most worthy cause: love.

"Matsuda-san," she announced, cutting through his noise. "This doesn't reflect us at our most professional, and both of our respective employers are not going to approve of this..."

"Oh. I hadn't thought of that." He looked stricken, though whether it was from potentially facing Soichiro's wrath or from potentially being denied his crush was unknown. Who knew how men's minds worked, they were a mind-boggling species. "Should we, err, never speak of this again?"

As though he was entirely too familiar with the idea. Aw.

"It's fine," Merrie assured warmly. "But let's keep it a secret, okay? A professional secret. With no long-term commitment, no promises and no hard feelings."

This was more than fine with Matsuda, who nodded vigorously. In fact, it was such a vigorous nod that she did not know quite what to make of that. She rather hoped he didn't get too attached, but she gave herself morality points for being honest and sterilizing any hopes of an established relationship before they spawned.

Merrie took a moment to cross her arms and lean casually against the hallway wall, right by her door. Her hand crawled to the handle of her door and briskly clicked it open, nodding toward the cop. "Now tell me a little more about yourself, Matsuda-kun. I want to get to know you better. Your family, your hobbies. Maybe, oh, I don't know, your job working undercover as Misa Amane's modeling agent..."

Merrie cleared her throat as triumphantly as humanly possible. Aiber heard the noise (considering its ferocity, one would have to be wearing earplugs to miss it). The French man gave what might have been a highly exasperated sigh and looked up the reports he was glancing over about various Yotsuba employees, and took a quick gulp of his champagne as though it were medicine.

“Bonsoir, ma chérie.”

“So...” Merrie started, her lips tugging into a sweet little smile. “I seduced some answers out of Matsuda.”

He shook his head reprimandingly. “You're shameless.”

“You're jealous.”

“To the point of hardly being able to contain my utter dismay.”

“I knew it!”

“Yes, the romantic in me only wishes that I had gotten to Matsuda first.”

Ha, ha. Very cute, Aiber.

“Anyway, he said something you'll find quite interesting, I'm sure, and-” Merrie halted as she glanced over at the report Aiber had gone back to reading, or more specifically, the photograph in the top right corner. “Who's that?”

He didn't look up as he briskly replied, “A Kira suspect.”

“Reiji Namikawa.” She slowly deciphered the Japanese kanji that spelled the name with very great interest. “That guy's hot. What's his romantic status?”

“I thought you didn't care about that.”

“I suppose I don't.”

“You're hopelessly shameless, and far beyond redemption.”

Tch. There were more fun things in the world to talk about than how badly she was going to hell, and honestly, who was he to talk? “Listen to this. Matsuda says that Misa's love is one-sided! One-sided! Matsuda heard from Mogi that Light dated her before L captured them, but then Matsuda said that Light told L that he doesn't have mutual romantic feelings for her. And L told this Aizawa guy, who's a cop who quit the case because of L – understandable, actually – that he believes Misa is Kira because she loves Light, and Matsuda heard it from Aizawa. But Light also – get this – told Misa to her face that he doesn't really remember being intimate with her! That was last month, right after L released them from solitary incarceration, and even though they both live in the same building they don't see each other often because they both work all day!”

“I didn't actually pay attention to a word you just said,” Aiber admitted gallantly.

“Well obviously Panda Face is jealous of Misa's affections, otherwise why the hell would he chain up Light like that? And he even keeps Misa in the seventeenth floor of this building, far below any investigation quarters. She's only allowed up occasionally! And really, even from what I've witnessed, L treats that boy like a piece of meat he's playing guard dog over, so it's not like I'm lacking personal evidence here.”

“That's really attractive imagery. Miss Wedy makes a charming poet. Are you certain you aren't French?”

She ignored the sarcasm because it was of no benefit to her. “It's all true. Honestly, the conclusion is just so crystal clear. I was right the whole time.”

“You haven't considered the possibility that maybe, ah, the handcuffs are there to consistently monitor Light for suspicious criminal behavior while allowing him to use his vast intellect to further the investigation, and Amane is secured elsewhere because she is merely of no direct use?”

Because his attitude was really beginning to annoy her, Merrie stopped gracing the lowly con-man with her level stare and turned instead to the window. She huffed and examined her reflection through the glass, adjusting her hair slightly with a slender hand clad in black leather glove. “Aiber, honey, I do believe you might be every inch as false as your business suggests.”

"Wedy, my Hera," Aiber said kindly, shaking his head slightly. "You need only to recognize the fact that L and Light Yagami are polar opposites. You truthfully have no firm foundation to lay your hypothesis upon."

"Silence, non-believer."

"If only you would consider the possibility that you're looking too far into everything?"

"If only you would consider the possibility of... arsenic in your wine tomorrow. I can arrange it."

"You know what we say about Americans, my dear?" Aiber asked naturally, saluting her with his champagne glass as though taunting the fact that it was not poisoned. "They thrive off of drama."

"You know what we say about the French?" Merrie shot back. She leaned forward, her face just an inch away from his. Her hand snaked forward and snatched the glass, bringing it quite immediately to her lips and tasting the alcohol. She drained the entire glass as Aiber frowned at her, and then tossed the empty vessel back into his lap. "Freedom fries."

-To Be Continued...